


Like Stars

by Vulpesmellifera



Series: Crayon Box Melts [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Constellations, Fluff and Humor, Freckles, M/M, a freckle fiesta, so much love for freckles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/pseuds/Vulpesmellifera
Summary: Greg loves Mycroft's freckles. Not everyone has the same level of appreciation.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Crayon Box Melts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578679
Comments: 56
Kudos: 208





	Like Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a lark today, so unbeta-ed, all pure fun.

“And you see there? That’s um...the Little Dipper.” Greg traces the pad of his forefinger across Mycroft’s skin, sending shivers all across the man.

“You are utterly ridiculous,” Mycroft sniffs, though there’s a slight lift at the corners of his lips. 

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Greg says as he kisses Mycroft’s shoulder. “And this one’s like that guy with the belt. Orion.” He kisses down the length of Mycroft’s arm.

Mycroft stretches across the sheets, loose-limbed and languorous. Greg’s heart lifts to see the man at ease. 

He goes back to examining Mycroft’s freckles. They dust his shoulders, his arms, his back and legs, and even his buttocks. Greg could spend all day finding shapes and constellations among them. “And this one here,” he says as he lifts Mycroft’s arm out of the way so he can look at the ones on his lover’s oblique. “Looks like...what are some other constellations?”

Mycroft giggles. It’s joyous and a little high-pitched, not at all what you’d expect, and Greg’s still astonished sometimes that he gets to hear it. That he gets to spend time in this man’s bed, sharing small bits of sheer happiness with him, little nuggets of inanity and insouciance. It’s everything to him now.

“You wait and see, I’m gonna get a book. And then I’m going to whip out my constellation knowledge and impress you. Get a marker and connect the dots for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mycroft says, still laughing. 

“I’m a fast learner, My.” He kisses Mycroft’s hip, and moves down to position himself between Mycroft’s legs. Mycroft’s thighs part to allow him access. Greg grazes his teeth along the inside of one thigh. “You just wait.”

* * *

Greg rifles through his files, only half-listening to the sonorous tantrum going on in his cramped office. Sherlock’s getting on his last nerve and he’s not sure he can take much more. But the lanky git is his problem, taking up more space than anyone has any right to, talking his ear off about the suspect they’ve got in custody. Some part of Greg is picturing Sherlock as the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. A lot of babbling nonsense and a truly chaotic tilt-a-whirl around the room. 

Until he stops. Snorts. Picks a book up from Greg’s desk. “A book on constellations, Lestrade? Really? Why are you filling your head with this useless knowledge when you should be solving crimes?”

Greg feels a stint of wickedness coming on. A slow grin crosses his face as he squares his body toward Sherlock, still sitting in his chair. “I use this knowledge on your brother.”

“My brother?” His face twists into a rictus of disgust.

“Yeah,” Greg says, and he licks his teeth. “You know, he has the cutest freckles. Like little constellations. Particularly on his thighs, and on his -”

“Oh my god!” Sherlock drops the book like it’s made of flames. “How dare - how could - oh my god!” He throws the office door open and flings himself out into the hall. “Delete! Delete!”

A moment later John walks in to find Greg still laughing in his chair, eyes watering. 

“What did you say to him?” John says, a slight smile on his lips.

Greg guffaws again. Slaps his thigh. “Just ask him what his favourite constellation is, will ya do that for me?”

John tilts his head. Smiles wider. “O-kay. I’ll try that later.”

“Let me know how that goes.” Greg wipes his eyes again, and exhales with a sense of satisfaction. 

* * *

“Greg,” Mycroft says as Greg enters his flat. His eyes glitter as he stands there, a glass of wine in each hand. “What did you do?”

“Huh?” He catches on right away from the mirthful look on Mycroft’s face. “I, uh, don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

Mycroft smiles. Hands him his glass. Greg takes a sip, his eyes never leaving Mycroft’s. 

“You got a book?” Mycroft asks.

“I got a book,” Greg says and grins. 

“Scamp,” Mycroft says.

“Your scamp,” Greg replies.

“My scamp.” He takes Greg by the hand and leads him toward the bedroom. “The planetarium is open tonight.” 

Greg snorts, even as his heart kicks up. “Is that a euphemism?”

Mycroft gives him a heated stare. “That depends. Do you want to go to the actual planetarium, or would you prefer an interactive exhibit in my bedroom?”

“Interactive exhibit, you say?” Greg bites his lip as his trousers grow tight. “Well, you know I’m a proponent for hands-on education.” And he gives Mycroft a little slap on the bum as they enter the bedroom, the two of them laughing, shining, Greg thinks, like stars in the night.


End file.
